


Morning Sickness

by LegionofShadowhunters



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Child, Fuck the series finale, I will fight the angels myself, Jace and Clary deserve to be happy damn it, POV Third Person, Pregnancy, im sorry but i have to, let clace be happy 2k19, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-30 01:36:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19032079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LegionofShadowhunters/pseuds/LegionofShadowhunters
Summary: Clary's having a hard time with morning sickness, but Jace is there to take care of her.





	Morning Sickness

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment!!!!

For the fifth time that week, Clary woke up in the middle of the night to her stomach churning. She pried herself out of the comfort of Jace’s arms and frantically scrambled off the bed. Bile rose up in her throat before she crossed the threshold into the bathroom. She slammed her hand against the switch inside the doorframe. The bright light burned her eyes, but the discomfort had to wait. A folded up towel offered cushion as she fell to her knees in front of the toilet. 

Almost every night for the last two weeks, nausea pulled Clary out of deep sleep. During the day she avoided anything with a strong smell and picked at her food at every meal. She couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t eat. All she wanted was to curl up in a ball on the cool tile floor. 

Another round of nausea hit her, and Clary choked back a sob. She heard drawers open and close, but the sound didn’t register with her immediately. Still half asleep, nothing mattered but the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Jace knelt down behind her. “Jace, I can’t do this,” She cried. His fingers brushed along her neck as he pulled her hair back. 

As gently as he could, he tied her sleep-tossled hair into a messy ponytail at the back of her head. The last couple weeks gave him plenty of practice. “Yes, you can.” Jace murmured in her ear, his voice rough with sleep. His hands rubbed her sore shoulders. “It’ll pass. It’s going to be okay.”

Clary whimpered when he stood back up, leaving her alone on the bathroom floor. “Jace?” Her throat burned. Sweat beaded on her forehead and every muscle in her body tensed as she fought to keep the sickness at bay. She closed her eyes tight. 

Water ran from the sink next to her. “I’m right here, babe,” He said softly. A moment later Jace was back by her side. A damp wash cloth brushed against her forehead. “Does that feel good?” Clary nodded, pressing her feverish skin against the cold cloth. 

A few waves of nausea later, and the worst of it passed. Clary sat back on her heels. She took the wash cloth from Jace and wiped her mouth. He untied her hair and let it fall back around her shoulders. “I think I’m good,” She sighed and sat back against the side of the bathtub. The cold tile felt good on the back of her thighs as Jace’s borrowed t-shirt rode up the back of her legs. 

Jace moved to sit beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. The tips of his fingers traced shapes on her upper arm. Despite her feverish skin and Jace’s warmth, Clary curled up into his side. 

Her toes poked the towel she had just been resting on. “Did you put that there?” She didn’t remember leaving a towel on the floor, and if she dropped one when she did laundry earlier it wouldn’t have been carefully folded like that. 

“You were bruising your knees,” Jace said simply. He kissed the top of her head. “I thought it might help.”

The pregnancy test box poked out of the garbage can beside them. Seeing the little plus sign appear had been just as much of a relief as it had been a surprise. Clary initially wrote off her missed period as a fluke, stress induced or something like that. When she started getting sick too she had Jace bring home the test. 

They tried to celebrate with a nice dinner, but the smell of Jace’s cooking made her throw up. Instead he ran out and got her crackers and ginger ale for dinner. Clary wasn’t even showing yet, and Jace’s nurturing side was out in full force. Meanwhile all she could think about was how disgusting she felt. 

Hormones and a lack of sleep pushed Clary to the edge. Tears stung at her eyes. “I can’t do this for nine months, Jace.” She whispered. “I can’t.”

Jace smoothed her hair with his hand. “Morning sickness is only a few weeks. In a few months none of this will matter. We’re going to have a baby, Clary,” The excitement and softness in his voice relaxed her nerves a little, “And she’s going to be perfect. When she smiles at you for the first time, when you hear her giggle, when you see how she looks at you, it’s all going to be worth it. You’re going to be so in love with her that the word ‘can’t’ will lose all meaning.” 

Every night when she got sick Jace was a few steps behind her. Anything she needed, he had it at the ready. He looked just as exhausted as she felt. Dark circles shadowed the skin under his eyes, and he hadn’t shaved in a couple days. Somehow he still had enough energy to be excited. “How do you know?” 

Jace brushed her hair back out of her face. “Because I know you,” He smiled and bowed his head. He touched the tip of his nose to hers. “I know that you love more fiercely than anyone I’ve ever met. I know how brave you are, and that it takes a lot more than a few weeks of throwing up to make you give up.”

He pulled out of Clary’s arms and got back up on his feet. “Right now you’re tired and you don’t feel well.” He offered her a hand. “It sucks, but it’s not enough to make you blink, let alone surrender completely.”

“This might be my last straw,” Her voice didn’t shake as much as it had before. She let Jace pull her into his chest. “What if I break?”

“You don’t break,” Jace kissed her forehead. “Now let’s get you to bed, so you can get some sleep before the next round hits.”

The lamp on Jace’s side of the bed sent a warm glow throughout the room. Clary made a mess out of the covers when she ran for the bathroom. He led her to her side of the bed. He pulled the blankets up around her waist. “I’m going to go get you a glass of ice water. Do you want anything else?” She shook her head. “I’ll be right back.”

Clary tossed the covers down to her legs, exposing her stomach. She pulled Jace’s shirt taut, but there wasn’t anything to see. According to google she wasn’t far enough along. In a couple weeks there would be a bump, and in a few months, a baby. It seemed like forever, and it seemed like tomorrow. She didn’t want to wait, but she didn’t feel ready either. 

“You know for someone so tiny you cause a lot of trouble,” She said out loud. “You’re like what? The size of a peanut?” Her fingers trailed along her stomach. 

Fantasies of their future drifted in her head. She imagined Jace asleep on the couch with the baby on his chest. The halls of Herondale manor filled with laughter and tiny footsteps instead of the eerie quiet. A pair of sleepy blue eyes looking up at her as she rocked the baby in her arms. Soft blond hair and a big goofy smile. 

She wanted it all so bad. Her own little family in her own little house with the man she loved more than anything in the world. 

“Your daddy’s right. We’re going to love you so much.” Tears welled in her eyes again. “I didn’t mean what I said. I can do this for you. I promise.”

The floor creaked in the hall. Clary blinked way the tears and wiped under her eyes before Jace could see. “I’m surprised you’re not asleep yet.” 

Ice clinked in the glass. The burning in her throat returned to the front of her mind. “I’m still a little wound up,” She admitted. 

Jace climbed into the small space left beside her. “Drink up,” He held out the glass to her. “Can’t have you getting dehydrated.”

It didn’t take long for Clary to drain the glass completely. The cold doused the burning in the back of her throat. She gasped for air when the only thing left was the wad of ice cubes. 

Clary curled up beside him, resting her hand over his heart. A shiver ran through him as her cold finger tips made contact with the rune on his chest. She apologized, but Jace threaded their fingers together before she could take her hand away. 

“What do you think about light green?” He asked. 

“For what?”

“The nursery,” He quickly moved past the word. “I’m not a huge fan of the blue in there. I could paint the furniture too, unless you want to pick out something new. I don’t know how much safety regulations have changed since the nineties.”

The door across the hall from the master bedroom was the one room they left untouched since they moved in two years ago. Jace’s parents prepared a his nursery before they died. At some point Imogen or someone she employed covered the furniture in old sheets and left it for Jace to find twenty-five years later. 

Going through his parents’ things was hard enough on Jace, but he could distance himself from them. He never knew them, so the significance of most of the items was lost on him. He couldn’t deny the importance of the little blue room with the carefully painted cartoonish clouds on the wall above a crib. 

Clary found him kneeling on the floor their first week in the house, a dusty stuffed toy elephant in hand. She sat down beside him for a long while before he spoke. “They wanted me,” He whispered, the weight of the words pulling him towards her as he broke down. 

Since that day the door stayed closed, and everything inside the room remained untouched. 

“We have other rooms, Jace,” Clary spoke softly. “We don’t have to use that one.”

Jace pulled the covers back up around them. “I want to.” He nuzzled the top of Clary’s head. “That’s what they wanted it to be used for.” His hand rested on her stomach, a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“In that case, I think light green would be perfect.” She brushed her thumb along the back of his hand. If seeing the nursery as the baby’s and not his helped ease the pain, Clary was all for the idea. She made a mental note to take pictures of the clouds on the walls before he got started painting. She’d find a way to recreate them for her own child to look up at.

The two of them laid in silence, the late hour and days without quality sleep weighed heavy on both of them. “You were wrong by the way,” Clary murmured. 

“About what, exactly?” Sleep already started to cloud his voice. 

“He’s a boy.”


End file.
